Tako the Terrorist

I sobbed fat, salty tears today. The kind that well up on the surface of your eyes first before they form giant drops that fall heavily down your face.

I got a puppy, his name is Tako. He's 9 weeks old. Dealing with his puppy terrorism takes every ounce of my patience. I don’t blame him, he’s a baby. He acts brand new—because he is. I’ve only had him for 2 weeks, but he fucking tests me. He knows that his shrill cries are my weakness. I internally break down in seconds due to the sheer volume of his whining. I’m probably much more fearful of noise complaints than I should be, but I would hate to live in any apartment neighboring me right now.

I don’t want to talk about how Tako is cute as fuck. 
I won’t agree with you about how he’s so chill when you meet him.
I can't admit to you that I am any happier than before I got him. I can't, at least right now.

You’re just under his spell, his immediate charming little spell.

I want to cry and complain and vent that I am doing my fucking best all by myself. He’s expensive, he’s time consuming and when he’s not a good boy he bites me and snaps in my face.

I feel dumb for even typing this. It’s trivial. It’s expected.

I KNOW. I guess I just wanted to erase that facade of a cute face because he’s hard work. I want to say what I really fucking feel. I wanted to keep it a buck (100). 

For the record, I’ll never regret getting his ass. I caught feelings for the fucker as soon as I held him. I have dreamt about a shiba for as long as I can remember. However I want to cry, a hug, or some simple reassurance that it’ll get better (I know it will). 

He’s my dog and I can cry if I want to.

Independence Day

Labor day somewhat serves as my independence day. 5 years ago I had to make make the difficult decision to leave the apartment I shared with my husband and move back to my parent’s house with my tail between my legs.

I am a proud and stubborn woman—it was hardest thing I ever had to do, but I still managed to move out without shedding a tear.

Since then I’ve had 5 solid years of figuring who the fuck I am as an individual and reclaiming my independence.

Last night I was in the company of a couple that wouldn’t stop bickering. They fought for a majority of the night, when one subject died out another one magically kept the argument going.

Jesus Christ, dude.

I almost wanted to mediate the situation and tell them that one needed to apologize while the other one needed to calm the hell down. Obviously it wasn’t my place and they argued for a solid hour, all while the rest of us danced the night away—3 feet away from them.

Pro Tip: If you’re THAT couple, go home. You’re not doing anyone any favors by sticking around when your bad vibes hover around the entire group like a dark cloud. We can hear you. We can see you. Either let it go… or go home. I’m just saying.

It’s always interesting witnessing a couple fight when you’ve been single for so long. You think everyone is taking each other for granted because you have to deal with life solo, meanwhile these people have each other.

Get over it. Apologize. Accept the apology. Shit.

I realize it’s not that simple. I’ve built up all the patience in the world because I haven’t had to deal with headaches from a significant other. There is no one to irritate me and give me a short fuse. Witnessing situations similar to what I experienced last night make me realize why I’m thankful to be single.

My last year married and even the year after was a fucking doozy. Despite all my posts longing for a relationship I realized I needed time to recover. I took a huge break from dating because I was tired of dealing with setting my own expectations and the disappointment that came when they were too high (they were never that high—online dating just fucking sucks). I’m about to jump into it soon because I’d like to know what it feels like to have a man wait for me outside my office building so he can take me to dinner. I’d like to getaway for the weekend. I’d like to fall in love again, even if that means I have to scold him every time he’s in my apartment and forgets to use a coaster. I don't mind trading in some independence for some headaches, as long as love and affection comes with them.

Cheers to 5 solid years of riding through life solo. Wish me good luck jumping back into the dating pool. TBH, future boo needs more luck than me… he’s getting a girl who has SEVERE trust and abandonment issues.

HAHA. No. Really. *deadass face*

I’m still a fucking catch tho. Obviously.

4 Before 34 #1

34 little things I've learned.

Better late than never... but never late is better. Sorry.

34. Always bring a jacket with you in San Francisco.
33. It’s ok if you take half shots, especially if you’re drinking with men.
32. Don’t have snacks in the house if you don’t want to snack.
31. Stainless steel gets the scent of garlic off your hands. 
30. Don’t eat more edibles until you’ve waited at least 45 minutes.
29. Check for a discount code before you checkout online.
28. Being called “beautiful” beats any other compliment regarding physical appearance.
27. Dull knives are more dangerous than sharp ones.
26. Scotch is actually NOT the preferred spirit in Scotland.
25. Pickle juice is THE BEST whiskey chase, hands down.
24. Jack in the Box tacos are NOT meant to be consumed a day after purchase.
23. Only drink bottled water in third world countries.
22. Always counter your offer. Ask for more, even just a little extra.
21. Pretty girls like pretty friends. All my bitches bad, and I love all my bitches.
20. The same cannot be said for men and their friends (see line item above).
19. However, if a man is funny chances are most of his squad is too.
18. Always keep "survival food" in the freezer for hang overs.
17. Everyone has time to text, whether they do so or not is on them.
16. Taquerias painted in bright colors (particularly yellow) are usually exceptionally good.
15. TSA precheck and Global Entry is well worth the $100 investment.
14. There is a meme for almost every situation in life.
13. Goat cheese doesn’t belong on anything. It’s disgusting.
12. Always check airfare prices on Tuesdays.
11. Hot apple cider and bourbon make cold weather bearable.
10. Call your parents, whenever you can remember.
9. If plan A doesn’t work there is always B, C… or Z.
8. Keep vacations plans interchangeable in case of unpredictable weather.
7. Avoid interacting with a man after his favorite team has just lost a championship title game.
6. Find someone who only wants to touch your privates and no one else’s.
5. Always keep ripening avocados on deck.
4. Your photos will look better if you follow the “rule of thirds.”
3. Pizza should have thin crust, only.
2. YOU CAN BE FLY AS FUCCCCCCK and a man still might not be able to be faithful to you.
1. Regarding that last point, if that’s the case… it’s not your fault.

4 Before 34 #2

Self Love is the best love

*Insert five masturbation jokes here*

Just kidding. I will not be referring to masturbation at all during this post. Sorry.

I think self love is a recent phenomenon. I believe it stems from a combination of things you’re already familiar with, such as self confidence and self respect. We’re well acquainted with those two, but people are still confused about self love. Everyone is still trying to wrap their heads around the concept.

Shit, I’m still trying to figure it out.

There’s a cashier who works at Trader Joe’s on Sundays who always seems to ring me up. When it’s time for the flowers to get rung up he says: “Are these for you?” My response is usually a simple: “Yup. Treat yo’ self.”

I believe treating yo’ self is only a piece of the puzzle, that’s just self indulgence.

You should give yourself what you deserve/want, especially if no one else is providing it for you. However, purchasing things is easy. You’re usually just limited to monetary restraints in this case. You can treat yo’ self until your bank account rejects your idea of material symbols of affection. Love is more than positive affirmations, gifts and fuzzy feelz.

Tough love doesn’t get enough credit. This is where self discipline steps up to the plate and either bats 1000 or shits the bed. Someone has to keep you in check—YOU. If you ask me… self discipline is The Real MVP. No one wants to be the bad guy. Self discipline is the one that makes you workout 4x a week, urges you to order salad instead of fries, it’s the entity that looks out for you the most with your best interest at heart. Just don’t let self discipline turn into self deprivation.

Self love is the best love and my edibles are kicking in so I’m turning self conscious. END POST.

The 3rd of August

I saw the date and remembered it was your birthday, then I texted mom and I thought of this picture. I can’t even remember what year you passed, but I remember your birthday. It’s easy, 6 days before mine.

I went to the church in Yerba Buena during my lunch break to light a candle for you. When I got inside they were all lit. I though about blowing one out and relighting it in your honor but I decided against it. There’s probably weird karma involved with something like that. I still left a dollar in the donation stand and thought of you.

I think that’s all the really matters.

I feel bad that I still haven't visited your grave (and Atang's, and Ninang's). Mom advises me against going to the Philippines. She’s always telling me to save my money and that I don’t need to go there. You know how she is, so anti. I'll visit though, eventually

I wish there was an app where I could order someone to leave flowers on your grave and they could send me a photo. That smells like a decent idea. “Millennial overseas grand daughter wanted to give deceased grandmother flowers on her birthday with no one to ask the favor, invented a new app.” Anyways, I wish I could've gotten you flowers.

I miss you today, probably the most than I can remember.

Happy birthday, Inang. Love you.

4 Before 34: #3

The older I get the less apologetic I am

It’s already difficult to get an “I’m sorry” out of me.

Unless I personally offended you, genuinely hurt your feelings, put you in some kind of danger or had a momentary lapse in my memory—it’s difficult. That last one is getting to be increasingly common and for that—I do apologize.

I don’t apologize for my opinions. I won’t apologize for instances that you’re experiencing that have nothing to do with me. Please note that does not mean I’m not sympathetic/empathetic—I will feel for you and with you. I just don’t say sorry because your struggles didn’t stem from me. I realize I take this portion of an apology a bit too literally. 

The older I get the time and energy ratio dwindles, as a result I keep both of those assets under lock and key. Sometimes I come off as rude because of it and for that…

I am not sorry.

Not sorry I need to Irish Goodbye 80% of the time because people don’t allow me to leave at an appropriate hour when I willingly express my interest in departing from the festivities.

Not sorry I only turn up to 65% on the evenings before a workout class the next morning. I’d rather not pay the $15 late cancellation fee due to a hang over. Note: I plan my weekend classes accordingly. If it’s your 35th birthday and you bought bottles I’m wise enough to know that I shouldn’t schedule 10 am spin class the next day.

Not sorry I’m not talking to your boy’s-boy’s-boy’s who are young or ghetto or who I have nothing in common with—even if we’re all sitting at the same table. I’ll acknowledge them, I won’t necessarily exert energy on them.

Not sorry if I skip out on an invitation if I ask “who’s going/there?” and don’t like the answer. I am extremely not sorry for that.

Not sorry during moments I am introverted, tired, drained or emotionally shitty. I purposely try and keep myself under quarantine during these times, however sometimes social obligations persist and you gotta show face—even if its not a good one. 

I try to be real as I am with my excuses, but I don’t see them as excuses. I’m just trying to live as best as I see fit and for that I'm not sorry at all, not even a little bit.

4 Before 34: #4

Do not cash checks you don’t have.

My former boss ended his time at my company on a salty note. He gave his final two week notice at the end of our fiscal year but before year-end bonuses were handed out. He defended his right to be paid, however since he is no longer employed when the $$ hits our bank accounts he was denied. I’m pretty sure he lost a significant amount of his expected income because he didn’t stick it out for another full month. That’ll add salt to any diet for sure.

Pro tip: If you’re going to quit and its close to bonus time—WAIT IT OUT.

There are two moments in recent years where I have mentally allocated funds from sources that never came to fruition. I am currently in the middle of one of those moments.

FUN FACT THAT IS NOT FUN: Engagement rings have a ridiculous resale value of roughly 20% of the original retail cost or current insurance appraisal. 

20%, at most. If they even want your ring… maybe they don’t. Maybe its not even worth their time.

A handful of people warned me that I wouldn’t receive the full value of my engagement ring in cash. I get it—they wanted to set expectations. Ok, I at least expected half… it’s fine jewelry for God’s sake. There has to be a market for shit like this. RIGHT?

Nah. Wrong. Wrong as fuck.

I took it to a jeweler, he offered me $180 for my diamonds set in platinum. There’s costume jewelry sold at Nordstrom that costs more than that. Every other potential jewelry buyer I’ve approached has politely declined, it wasn’t even worth an offer. FYI, it appraised for $4050. 

I can’t tell if I’m more upset that everyone is telling me my former beloved engagement ring isn’t worth monetary value or that I have to fund my dog out of my own pocket. It’s both—OBVIOUSLY.

I know what you’re thinking… if I am willing to pay for a dog I should be able to fund this from the bottom of my heart and wallet. But I’m me. (I'm me. TIMES THREE. *bonus points if you got that reference*) I logically thought this through and budgeted my money while simultaneously expecting $1500 free. THE FUNDING WAS MENTALLY ALLOCATED ALREADY.

The idea behind trading in my ring for something to love was genius. It was supposed to be fucking symbolic. Now I’m upset because I feel like I just got handed two "L's."

A reminder “L” for marriage. A new “L” for the bank account.

The other time I mentally used money I never had was when I could taste a $3k referral bonus check, but the woman I referred refused the position offered to her. She had it, dude—and I would’ve had at least 60% of that check.

Pro tip: Only count/spend money you actually have.

P.S. I'll be happy to pay for the dog (once a breeder finally confirms with me), a confirmation alone would lift my spirits. However I was just mentally prepared and felt somewhat entitled to getting it for free.

Inverted Writer's Block

It’s not that I have writer’s block—I don’t. It’s the opposite, I have writing ADD and I can’t focus on a single streamlined topic. It’s difficult to get through a post without editing it into the grave. I read some advice that you should write drunk, edit sober. I’m 200% sure that an alcoholic came up with that… I still like the concept tho. Maybe I’ll start a #writedrunkeditsober tag. Note to self: DO THAT.

In an attempt to stay focused I’ll be writing “4 Before 34,” 4 major things I’ve learned before 34.

BECAUSE WE ALL KNOW I CANNOT FOLLOW THROUGH WITH 34 ITEMS BEFORE MY ACTUAL BIRTHDATE (and because the concept was so well received last year).

Emotional Quota

I think I’m just having a bad day.

I think it finally hit me that my boss is gone, that my project director is on the tail end of his tenure and before the changes begin to resemble anything like our previous team's chemistry—it’s going to be a rough restart. 

I think my PMS has decided that instead of gradually affecting me it said: “FUCKIT, YOU’RE GONNA FEEL ALL THE FEELZ TODAY.”

I think I'm super frustrated that every single Shiba Inu breeder I’ve reached out to has not given me anything close to a confirmation or even concrete information. At this point I've easily contacted over a dozen by now. I've searched the entire West Coast + Nevada + Arizona and I still can't get someone to take my deposit.

I think the fact that I want to burst into tears on my walk home is amplified by the fact there is no one to unleash this emotional wrath on as soon as I arrive. 

That last one is a big one.

That one always makes me feel especially crazy. It’s like a vicious cycle. I end up sobbing out of control because there is no one there to console me.

I just laughed out loud as I typed that last sentence. I want to cry because there is no one to cry to. Anyways… I’ve gotten out all the tears for the day. The emotional quota has been filled. 

You get five minutes—only. 

PS. I owe you a post about my travels. I owe you posts in general. They’re coming.

B.R.B.

I read somewhere that you’re not supposed to write just to push out content, you’re supposed to write when you’re genuinely motivated to write. The problem is I always want to write when I’m drunk, never high. If it’s past 9pm on a school night—I’m high. It doesn’t leave me many opportunities these days because my insomnia is back with a vengeance and I have to consume larger portions of edibles to stay asleep. I thought I conquered the issue by working out so much I was literally physically exhausted most nights, however eventually my subconscious caught up to my antics.

If you’ve never experienced insomnia before I envy you… so much.

I’m going to apologize ahead of time for neglecting my blog for the entire month of June. There are only 7 nights where I get to sleep in my own bed, I counted. I’m off to Portland, New York, New York again, Ireland and Scotland. I’m already exhausted by the number of redeye flights on my itineraries and my back already hurts from sleeping in beds that aren’t mine. For what it’s worth I will probably come back with a thousand stories to tell, I haven’t traveled this heavily in a minute.

I’ll try to write something here and there, but the way my calendar is set up right now… I can’t make any promises.

BRB.

Recalculating

If you told me 10 years ago that I would be divorced, living alone in the TL, blonde and working at a tech company at this point in my life... I guarantee that I would’ve had a panic attack.

None of this was in my life plan. None of it. Especially the fact that I’m blonde as fuck right now.

I saw this commercial while heavily PMSing and I almost burst into tears. From the moment I turned 29 the rest of my life has been recalculating and recalculating and recalculating. 

I got hit with the feelz by a simple tv spot.

Adult Pleasures

Nah. It’s not what you think. I won’t be talking about sex in this post either. I will, eventually… Maybe. Wait for it. No promises tho.

I feel like I’m experiencing some weird puberty where I’m transitioning from an adolescent adult to a legit adult. I don’t understand it. This is probably me entering my mid-30’s and recognizing all of these newly uncovered interests. They’re textbook lame but exciting at the same time. What’s happening, guys?

Plants + Flowers in your living or working space

Every week I spend about $7 on myself for flowers. Yeah, that figure is oddly specific. Eventually you learn which blooms are low-cost and thrive the longest. I can’t be spending travel money on peonies, it’s just not cost-effective. There’s something about living/green decor that makes spaces that much more aesthetic. Also, if you can keep plants alive—you a real one. It’s come to the point where I frequent a plant shop on Polk Street where I drill the proprietor for information on watering schedules and light requirements for all the plants I purchase at his shop.
 

Documentaries / Docuseries

Adults love this shit. Whether it's: "Parts Unknown," "Chef’s Table," "Making a Murderer," "30 for 30," "Minimalism," anything on Viceland, anything CNN is pushing out these days, anything about serial killers or drugs—when it’s done well we eat it up.

Someone is always recommending some sort of documentary to me and vice versa. They’re such entertaining means of consuming knowledge.

WHY? WHY THO? Is this really what it means to be 30-something? 
 

TSA Precheck / Global Entry

If you’re travel savvy you’ve probably looked into TSA Precheck or the Global Entry program.

TSA Precheck is $85 for 5 years. With this clearance you’re free to use their non-existent line to go through security in U.S. airports. You don’t have to take off your shoes, jacket or belt. You can bring your liquids in. You get to avoid the whole security BS thing—period.

Global Entry is $100 for 5 years and includes all the benefits of TSA Precheck PLUS an expedited process to get through U.S. customs whenever you’re returning from an international trip. If you travel internationally this is definitely the route to go. HOWEVER if you live in the Bay Area the only processing center is at SFO and Global Entry clearance is in high demand around here. The application review process takes about a month, after you’re pre-approved for a formal interview the wait time is around 7 months. Fortunately they allow walk-in appointments (which they cannot guarantee) however I took a chance during random off-peak hours and they were able to accommodate me within an hour including wait to finish.

Fair warning: If we’re traveling together I’ll wait for you at the gate while you’re going through security and I’ll say my goodbyes as you get in your customs line if we’re coming from a foreign country. Sorry not sorry. I paid $100 so I could live like a boss for 5 years.
 

Pricey workout classes

Soul Cycle is $34 per class. No memberships. No savings bundle packages. Fancy pilates reformer classes are roughly $30 per class. Any other type of studio workout classes will run you at least $20 easily.

ClassPass was targeting the hell out of me via IG ads since the year started. Eventually they offered a promo membership, $32 for 5 classes/month. Calculating the savings on the discounted membership alone made me go from 6 to midnight. That’s less than $7 a workout at some bougie fitness studio, sure dude.

Now my 3 months introductory offer is over and my promo membership is switching to full-cost, however ClassPasses ploy was effective. They’re converting me to a regular member cause at this point I’m fucking hooked. I can’t go back to just working out at 24hr Fitness full-time. I can’t do it… I need the fancy studio classes. Also this is the healthiest I’ve been in 5 years, so there’s definitely that.

If you're interested in trying it out (again, I highly recommend it), do me a solid and use my link so both of us get free $30 credit.
 

CC w/ points

I don’t know why it took me so long from switching to paying for everything with my debit card to getting a travel rewards CC. *Shrugs* I was sleepin’. 

I just recently became aware that I could earn hundreds of dollars in airfare, now I throw my CC down for every group tab and have everyone Venmo me. WHY ARE POINTS SO SEXY?

The Chase Sapphire card is usually coveted CC for this purpose. Pro tip: They cover your Global Entry application fee. 2-birds-1-stone.

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I'd love it if someone explained what the fuck is going on in my life... Why are budgets, spreadsheets, efficient travel, boutique workouts and educational and informative television my new obsessions?

WHY? Why do I love it?

EXPLAIN.

For now... Here's a chart of me trying to describe the exponential growth in conventionally boring topics and subjects. The X-axis equals my age, while the Y-axis equals my level of interest (as depicted with an arbitrary points rating system). I couldn't create a graph without giving this bitch fake data numbers. As you can see I'm on a trajectory that is going up and to the right, which most data analysis tells you is good news. 

If you didn't laugh at my attempt at a pointless chart—you should leave.